


Opening up can open some wounds

by maniasquared



Series: Stucky One-Shots and Drabbles [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Pet Names, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniasquared/pseuds/maniasquared
Summary: "There was only stillness and quiet. The long strands of hair fell in Bucky’s eyes, his gaze unwavering as his shoulders went up and down in the slightest from his breathing. There was an agonizing period of nothingness. Steve waited patiently, refusing to move a muscle even though his whole body was screaming at him to embrace his partner. He wouldn’t let himself lose his strength, he couldn’t risk it when Bucky was at stake. He felt tears stinging his eyes. He never relented against the stiffness of his position, at attention as if he was back in the line-up in the forties."Or: Steve wants to comfort Bucky during an episode, but it's not that simple.





	Opening up can open some wounds

**Author's Note:**

> "Well I've been on fire, thinking of you, tell me you don't, it feels like you do, opening up can open some wounds, how does it start and when does it end?"
> 
> Title from "I'm With You" by Vance Joy.
> 
> This is un-beta'd.

When he awoke, the other side of the bed was empty. His eyes flickered towards the door, which stood slightly ajar and Steve connected the dots. He felt his chest ache, he knew what he would find just past his line of vision in the next room. It pained him every time, and it had been more frequent and much more severe. Glancing at the clock on his bedside table, it was the ungodly hour of three a.m. It must have been a nightmare to trigger an episode, there were a lot of those recently. He rolled out of the blankets, and the air was freezing. It wasn’t this cold when the two went to sleep last night. He stumbled a little as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt. He didn’t bother with socks; his toes weren’t as important as Bucky. Nothing ever was.

Slipping through the door, he rounded the corner to enter his living room. He made a full stop in the middle. His heart almost shattered the second his eyes fell on his boyfriend, just a small, dark lump on the couch without any light source, save the minimal street-lamps through the window. There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance. There wasn’t any other sound, no other movement. Steve didn’t know what to do, he’d comforted Bucky a thousand times up until now, yet this time felt different. It felt especially bad. His eyebrows knitted together, he wanted to do something, but what?

He took a hesitant step forward and the floorboards creaked slightly. He kept his eyes on Bucky,  _ his _ Bucky. The shape on the couch didn’t move.

_ Maybe he was asleep…. _

Steve knew better than that. He took a second stride, and there was another noise of protest from the wood beneath his feet. He wondered if it was just tonight, or if the floor did this all the time and he just didn’t notice. He took a final step, he was within an arm’s reach. Bucky hadn’t stirred, facing parallel to the glass, staring at the wall. Thunder cracked, shaking the apartment, and the wind hummed in discontent. Steve jumped slightly, but there wasn’t any sign of disturbance in his partner.

“Buck…?” Steve mumbled, sitting a reasonable distance away. Nothing. He didn’t dare get closer without being certain that his boyfriend wouldn’t hurt himself; Steve couldn’t care less about his own personal wellbeing. “Buck, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Steve swallowed hard, his mind reeling. He tried to remember everything Bucky’s therapist said when sat in on a meeting with the two; he was in the Avengers’ intensive care ward for six weeks after they retrieved him from HYDRA and only then he was finally cleared for the safety of the public. Following recommendations from the psychiatrist, Bucky was to start seeing a psychologist regularly to help him recover and cope with his trauma. It was working really well, Bucky made huge strides in progress. Steve had to remind himself that healing isn’t linear; there were times of progress and times of regression. There would be days where life was almost the same way before the war, and days where it felt like Bucky was back at square one. Steve knew that he wouldn’t get back the same guy he fell in love with nearly one hundred years ago, but he didn’t care. He loved Bucky, no matter what.

“Bucky,” his voice was barely audible. “We are sitting in the living room right now, it’s raining outside, and it’s very late. You are sitting on the davenport, and I am next to you.”

Silence. The air was empty, devoid of Bucky’s relaxed energy and warmth. The cold was unrelenting, Steve noticed himself shivering. He slowly stood up and made his way towards the thermostat. The heat had been switched off, the temperature low enough for water to become ice if left out long enough. It was peculiar. Steve frowned; he set it last night to be a comfortable sixty-four degrees since he knew winter was coming, and quite rapidly.

When he returned his attention to Bucky, he nearly jumped out of his skin. The soldier had removed himself from the seated position, facing Steve, on his feet. He was a mere yard away. Steve only just realized that Bucky was completely undressed, with the exception of a pair of boxers that sat low on his hips. Steve inhaled deeply. “Bucky, can hear me? Do you know who is speaking to you?”

There was only stillness and quiet. The long strands of hair fell in Bucky’s eyes, his gaze unwavering as his shoulders went up and down in the slightest from his breathing. There was an agonizing period of nothingness. Steve waited patiently, refusing to move a muscle even though his whole body was screaming at him to embrace his partner. He wouldn’t let himself lose his strength, he couldn’t risk it when Bucky was at stake. He felt tears stinging his eyes. He never relented against the stiffness of his position, at attention as if he was back in the line-up in the forties. “James, it’s me, Steve…. James, it’s Steve, your best friend. I’m right in front of you, okay? We’re still in the living room, it’s still nighttime. You must have gotten out of bed…. You were sitting out here by yourself, but I’m here now…. I’m here…. Steve Rogers, the guy you always call—”

“Punk.”

Steve immediately halted his speech, eyes wide, he held his breath. Did he imagine Bucky calling him ‘punk?’ Or was it real? It felt like an eternity of silence crashing over his ears after it was filled with his own voice and the possibility of Bucky’s voice. He opened his mouth to speak, but….

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s shoulders slouched; he sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling his legs to his chest. He began shivering. “I’m so sorry, Stevie….”

Steve lurched forward, but he stopped abruptly, remembering the procedure. “James, can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m on the floor, in our apartment in New York,” his voice cracked, pain drenched every syllable. “It’s cold, and it’s dark.”

“What year is it?” Steve pressed, still unsure if his boyfriend was entirely present.

“2016.”

“Who am I, James?”

“Don’t call me that, you know I like Bucky better,” he whispered. His forehead laid across his knees, he sighed.

Steve waited for the answer he desperately needed. Silence.

Thick with tears, finally a response came, “You’re Stevie….  _ My _ Stevie.”

“My full name,” Steve felt his heart flutter at the name; he still didn’t move.

“Don’t do this, doll,” Bucky cried, his shoulders shaking lightly, “Please, you know it’s me…. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen…. Please, Stevie. I need you.”

“Baby, you know I can’t help until I know you’re safe.” His speech betraying him with an uneven tone. “Please, just tell me my name.”

“Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Good, and finally, your name.”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve was on the ground, holding his soldier tight. He nuzzled into the thick dark hair, breathing him in. Bucky instantly melted into his touch, sobbing. He kept repeating the same thing, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”

“Hey,” Steve cooed. Wiping away tears, he gently guided Bucky to look at him, their eyes connecting. “You don’t have to apologize, doll. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Bucky pushed away, suddenly angry. He got up and clenched his fists, the metal arm groaning lightly in protest to the change of tension. He faced the front door, seemingly debating on whether or not to storm out. Or punch it. Either would have likely ended in disaster.

“No, Steve. You don’t understand,” he spat, gritting his teeth. “I don’t  _ know _ if I did anything wrong,  _ I can’t remember what’s happened. _ ” His partner was quiet. He couldn’t even open his mouth he was so lost for words. “Christ, Steve! I remember going to bed with you in my arms but after that?  _ Nothing! _ The next thing I remember? I’m standing in this room, and you’re looking at me like I could explode at any second. It’s a terrible feeling. I lost  _ hours _ ; there are  _ hours _ that I don’t remember from tonight alone. I’m fuckin’ sick of having a blank slate for a brain. I’ve already lost years of living, and decades worth of memories, I can’t stand to have more ripped away from me.

“I don’t even know how the hell I got here, and it ki—,” Bucky stopped; he crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his biceps. “It’s fuckin’ freezing in here, what the hell is wrong with the thermostat?”

“I’m not sure, I got up to see where you went and it was cold. The heat was turned off, it’s like thirty degrees in here,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. The more he thought about it, he came up with a theory. He didn’t want to tell Bucky, though. He could be wrong and just make the situation so much worse.

Bucky knew him well enough, though. He pressed, “What is it?”

“Buck, it’s nothing, the thermostat must have just gone off. You know how I struggle with technology.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky whispered.

Despite his enhanced hearing, Steve didn’t hear his boyfriend. “What was that, babe?”

“I said ‘ _ bullshit _ ,’” he seethed, “Don’t bullshit me, Steve. I don’t need to be sheltered, I’m not some fragile creature!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve tried to stay calm, he just wanted to calm his boyfriend down and get back into bed with him. “I was just… just thinking that you might have turned it off when you were….”

There was a stretch of silence. Steve anticipated yelling, which he didn’t receive. Bucky was quiet, “When I was blacked out….”

Steve exhaled a sigh of relief, “Yeah.”

Bucky knew Steve feared him at that moment, and it made him feel absolutely terrible. His partner would never admit being afraid to anyone but Bucky, and to see him be the cause of it completely crushed him. He ran his fingers through his hair, groaning as he sat down, his back against the front door. “I’m sorry, Steve…. I know you’re just trying to help.  _ Fuck _ , why am I such an ass?”

“You’re not,” Steve replied. He looked up, blue eyes meeting grey. He walked carefully over to the one on the ground, crouching to cup the stubbly cheeks. He leaned in and kissed him on the nose. Then the left cheek, and then the right. Then on his forehead, and once more on his nose. Bucky’s heart melted. “You’re just… struggling. You’re-you’re adjusting to this life. This is all so new to you still, and that’s scary. Trust me, I know…. I know what it’s like to be thrown into a world where nothing is the same as when you knew it before. I know what it’s like to feel alone. I also understand that I  _ don’t _ know everything you went through, and I probably never will…. Regardless, that doesn’t make your story and your recovery any less valid.”

“But it doesn’t justify that I blew up at you,” Bucky mumbled, “I saw how scared you were, Stevie…. How you’re  _ still _ scared.”

He brushed the fingers of his flesh hand over the tracks remaining on Steve’s face from crying. Steve thought he held it all in, yet the dampness on his cheeks told him otherwise. He leaned into the touch while his eyes fluttered shut.

“I’m just worried about you, Buck…. I don’t care that you raised your voice at me. I know that you don’t mean to. I mean, you know what your therapist said: you have PTSD. I do, too, even though I still don’t know exactly what it means…” he confessed, “I just… I just want you to be safe, and… and happy.”

“I am happy, doll,” Bucky attempted a smile that was only about halfway convincing. “I’m happy because I’m with you…. I’m safe because I’m with you.”

Their lips met in a tender kiss overflowing with intimacy. Steve let out a hum of satisfaction, the edges of his mouth curling upward against Bucky’s. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.” At that moment, Bucky felt a real smile form. His chest was warm, and his stomach full of butterflies. “I love you more than anything in the whole universe.”


End file.
